Best Laid Plans
by wildegreenlight
Summary: Wedding planning is stressful; sometimes you just need a little time to "unwind".


**A/N: Another entry in the Romione Fluff Fest!**

 **Prompt** : They are overwhelmed by wedding planning

 **Description** : First of all I would like to dedicate this fic to jenn582 in honor of her birthday and all of her loving smashiness! This fic has been a plot bunny of mine for quite a while. It is inspired by real life events, and before you ask, I've never let him live it down.

 **Rating** : M (fluffy, smutty goodness)!

Hermione Granger didn't normally like coming home to an empty flat, but after the day she had just managed to survive at the Ministry, she was more than a little grateful for a few moments of quiet solitude. Her work was hectic on the best of days, so when something went wrong it felt a little like one of Lockhart's DADA lessons. Today had not been quite that dramatic, but when you threw in the extra load she was trying to pull in order to be out for three weeks, it was no great mystery as to why she was fighting off a wicked headache.

Kicking off her shoes, Hermione headed toward the bedroom to change. When she reemerged minutes later, her hair was free from the up-do that she often wore, feeling that it made her look older than her twenty-one years, and her Ministry robes had been replaced with flannel pants and one of Ron's old Canon's shirts. She poured herself a glass of wine, replenished Crookshanks empty bowl, and settled onto the sofa with a huge sigh of appreciation.

Scattered about the coffee table were a collection of notebooks, magazines, and brochures; they all shared one purpose: wedding planning. Hermione had never thought that she would be the type to want a formal wedding, but the notebook full of lists and charts told a different story. While many of his Auror colleagues might find it difficult to believe, Ron had been the one to convince her that they should not settle for a quiet ceremony at the Burrow or elope to a private location. His passion and enthusiasm had been contagious; and even though there had been a few small disagreements brought about by the clash of muggle and magical customs, she had been amazed at how easy it had been to agree on the details.

Hermione knew, thanks to office chatter, that she was very lucky to have a fiancé that was so invested in their wedding. Most other witches complained about having to do everything themselves or about feeling like their betrothed could care less about colors or caterers, but Ron had been all in from the beginning. While they made final decisions together, Ron had suggested that they divide the "to do list" up so that she was not overwhelmed. The plan had been a lifesaver, and she was more than a little impressed with how his strategic mind made quick work of tasks that she might tend to overthink. So now, with three months left before the wedding, the vast majority of the planning and work was done: invitations addressed, dresses awaiting alterations, cake ordered, flowers chosen, menu planned. She really couldn't believe that it was so close! She felt a little ridiculous to be so excited; after all, she and Ron had lived together since she returned from Hogwarts, but she still felt a thrill when she looked at the stunning ring she wore on her left hand.

She had worried, when he proposed that it was too extravagant. Despite their near celebrity status, they lived a modest life: a small flat, few splurges, and even fewer holidays. Ron had assured her that he had not overspent; in addition to learning the Weasley art of deal-finding he had tucked away a healthy sum when he had been working with George in addition to his Auror duties. He had managed to smartly invest all of his Wheezes earnings and had made enough interest to pay for her engagement ring and a very posh extended honeymoon. Just where this honeymoon was to take place, they had as of yet not decided. A myriad of exotic locales looked back at her from the brochures fanned across the table in front of her. They had discussed many options, both magical and muggle, but had yet to make a final decision. So far Ron's only request had been that they go somewhere neither of them had ever been. Reaching down, she picked up an advertisement for a magical ski resort in Austria; the front of it showed happy patrons going up and down the slopes. Ron had proven himself a decent skier on the couple of Christmas trips they had made with her parents, so she couldn't rule it out. She did quite like the thought of cuddling up with him beside a big fire while snow fell outside a very private window. As Hermione began to lose herself in thoughts of many delicious fireside activities, she heard Ron open the front door.

"Mione? You home?"

"Yes, I made it out on time today."

"Now that's magic!" He appeared from around the corner carrying a rather large bag of what she desperately hoped was her favorite curry.

"Speaking of magic, you've made my favorites appear right before my eyes!"

Leaning down to kiss her, he chuckled, "For my own ego's sake I'm gonna assume I rate higher than the curry."

"Oh, sure, of course you do dear," feigning sarcasm, she nipped at his lower lip when he began to pull away, "although I must admit that you are both extremely delicious."

"And more than a little spicy?" His adorable eyebrow waggle evoked a compulsory eye roll. "Let me get this on some plates and we can just eat out here, ok?"

"Sounds brilliant!"

Ron returned in a matter of minutes, delivering her dinner, and settled down beside her on the sofa. He motioned toward the pile on the coffee table, "Doing some research?"

"Just glancing through some options. You know, we really need to make a decision soon. Portkeys take time to schedule, unless you want to travel the muggle way."

"Nah…I don't wanna waste days on traveling, since it's just us," they usually took muggle flights when her parents were with them, it made her mum more comfortable, and Ron really loved being able to tell Arthur about the experience.

"Alright, at least we know that much. What next? Do we want somewhere tropical? Beach? Mountains?"

"Well, I've been thinking about that," he paused to take in a mouthful of his dinner.

"And?" Hermione took in her own forkful.

"I think what we need to decide first is do we wanna go somewhere to do fun stuff, or do we just wanna go somewhere to shag?"

His question was so earnest, that she initially thought that she had misheard him. Surely he had not just asked what she _thought_ he just asked? She swallowed heavily and downed a gulp of wine, just in case she had not been mistaken.

"Excuse me? Do I want do "fun stuff" or do I want to shag? Is THAT the question you're asking me?"

"Yeah…no! I didn't mean it like that!" He nearly choked on his food, and looked at her with wide, frightened eyes. "You know shagging you is my favorite thing ever!"

"That's not what it sounds like."

"Shite! I just don't think we should waste a lotta galleons going somewhere far off if we aren't gonna see the outside, ya know?" His face was beginning to show signs of panic, realizing he had put his rather large foot securely in his mouth.

Hermione actually _could_ see his reasoning; she had heard stories of young couples who never made it much further than their honeymoon beds. And knowing their own "appetites" it wouldn't be a stretch to think they might go three weeks without seeing the light of day. She could have easily let Ron off the hook, but she decided that this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. If she played her cards right, he may volunteer to do all the laundry and errands for the next week or two.

"All I know is that it sounds like we've already turned into an old married couple."

"Come on Mione, you know that's not what I meant at all! For Merlin's sake you know if we haven't shagged in more than a day, I go mental!"

"Well I always thought that was true, but people change. Maybe I'm just not exciting enough any more," she sat her plate on the table beside her wine glass. Sitting back to look at him, she pouted just a little too much for him to find believable. She realized her error, but waited to see how he would respond.

"Change, ya say?" Ron sat his plate down as well and moved closer to his fiancé, draping his arm over the edge of the sofa so that he could face her. "I reckon my wanting you _has_ changed a bit since I was thirteen."

Hermione turned more fully toward him, drawn in by the quiet huskiness of his tone. "Is that so?"

"Oh yes," he brought his hand up to brush his knuckles across her cheek. "Back then I was a right idiot. I thought that if I just ignored how I felt, it would go away."

"How did that plan work out for you?" there was a smile in her voice, still amazed after all these years, that their struggles had been so similar.

"Happy to say, it failed miserably," his hand ventured lower, taking his fingertips across her collarbone, exposed by the too-big shirt she wore. "But that's not the worst of it."

"Failing miserably sounds pretty bad, what could be worse?"

"After I realized that _not_ wanting you was impossible, I had this barmy notion that if I could just," he brought his hand up to cup her face, "touch you;" he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers, "kiss you; hold you; I would be satisfied."

"Weren't you? Satisfied, I mean," she tried to steady her breathing, not quite ready to give in so quickly.

Ron shook his head, "How could I be satisfied? Every kiss just made me want another. That first summer we were together, I was terrified at just how much I wanted you."

His hand had drifted lower, skimming her waist, but his eyes never left her own. The sincerity and intensity she saw reflected her own. Bringing her own hand up to his cheek, she sighed at easy intimacy they shared, and intimacy that had been born in those early months of their romantic relationship.

"I felt the same way; sometimes, if I'm perfectly honest, I still do."

"I don't want you to be afraid," his brow furrowed in concern.

"It's not a bad thing, not really. It's just this feeling that no matter what, I can never get enough of you."

"I don't know, I remember a few times, when I've left a mess in the bathroom, or put the milk carton back empty, that you seemed to have more than enough of me."

"Prat! You know that's not what I mean."

"I know all too well what you mean, Miss Granger," bringing his lips to her jaw, he ran kisses up to her ear where he whispered hotly, "I think about you all day, waiting to come home to you, waiting to touch you, waiting to love you."

Hermione rolled her head back, groaning as he nipped at her neck, "No need to wait. Touch me, Ron."

He growled into her flesh as he found the bottom of her shirt, desperately seeking her bare skin. "Do you have any idea what the thought of you in my shirt does to me?"

She sucked in a breath as he gently cupped her in his hand, letting his thumb tease her nipple, "You're not disappointed?"

"Why on Earth would I be?"

"Wouldn't you prefer it if you came home to me in some skimpy lingerie?" She kept her tone light, but her secret fear had always been that she was just a little too "plain"; she would have to be blind not to notice the gaggle of pretty little witches that giggled and made eyes at Ron pretty much wherever they went. Not that he ever so much as glanced at a one of them, but it occasionally brought her old insecurities to the surface.

"Never really mattered to me, long as I get to take you out of them," he pulled her closer, and she complied by straddling his legs.

She gave him a skeptical look, unconvinced despite feeling his growing arousal against her thigh, "Really?"

"Bloody hell, woman! Even the sight of you in your school robes used to make me hard! Do you have any idea how many times I had to excuse myself to avoid embarrassment?"

"Actually, I don't," she reached down decisively, removing her shirt in one quick motion, "why don't you tell me all about it?"

Ron's fingers were in her hair; his tongue and his moans filling her mouth. Suddenly desperate to feel more of him, Hermione grasped his shirt and began pulling in a futile attempt to rid him of the garment. Letting go of her with one hand, he assisted her by ripping it over his head by the back of the collar. As they faced each other, topless and breathless, she was overcome by how much he always seemed to just _know_ exactly what she needed. A moment ago she had felt frumpy and insecure, but now she felt, he made her feel, like the sexiest, most desirable woman in the world.

"In fact…that's the real reason I didn't pass my apparition test the first time."

"Excuse me?! As I remember it, I gave you loads of extra help and encouragement!"

"Precisely! How's a bloke supposed to concentrate when the only _destination_ he really cares about is," Ron leaned forward, swirling his tongue around her nipple before mumbling against her breast, "under his best friend's robes."

"Well, all you needed was a little more _determination_ ," she rolled her hips against him, causing them both to moan.

"I'll show you determination, you saucy witch!"

Hermione squealed as Ron hoisted them both up from the sofa, wobbling a bit before he found his balance. She locked her legs around his waist, and he carried her down the hall while she placed sloppy kisses over his neck. He stumbled a bit as he turned the corner, and the result was his slamming her into the wall, which made them both grunt in appreciation. He kissed her passionately, grinding his erection against the thin flannel of her pyjama bottoms. For a moment he contemplated taking her where he stood, but he wanted more than a quick shag in the hall, and he felt that she did as well.

"If I had a galleon for every time I thought about pushing you against the wall like this when we were on prefect rounds," he breathed his confession in the crook of her neck, "we could afford twenty wedding trips."

"Oh god," she was trembling against him, their bare chests fused together in that way that made him almost giddy with desire.

Ron lifted her up, continuing the short distance to their bed, setting her down on the edge. Hermione reluctantly released her grip, deciding that they were both far too overdressed for what she had in mind. He reached for his belt, but she stopped him preferring to dispatch his garments herself.

"And if _I_ had a galleon for every time I wanted to pull you into an empty classroom and," she worked her hands under the waist of his trousers, cupping his bare arse, "rid you of your pants," and made quick work of his clothes, "we could enjoy a very early retirement."

Ron's retort died on his lips as Hermione ran her tongue around the tip of his cock. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes as she took him into her mouth slowly. His breaths come out in shallow pants, hands tangling gently in her hair. There was a tiny part of him, even after all that time that was gobsmacked at what she has just said. Even though they had discussed it, so many times, he still couldn't quite fathom the fact that she wanted him then, the same way he wanted her. And what was even more overwhelming was the fact that she still did, and would forever. Suddenly it was too much, but decidedly not enough; he needed to make love to her, _now_.

He reached down, grabbing one of her hands, and pulled her up toward him. Although slightly confused, she responded enthusiastically when he crushed her to his chest, kissing her breathless. He backed her toward the bed, helping her up toward the pillows before removing her pajamas, delighted to find her sans knickers. The sight of her, hair spilling over the pillows, cheeks flushed, bare skin glowing in the dim light of their bedroom, made it almost impossible for him to resist burying himself inside her.

"Ron…please…need you," Hermione hooked her leg around his calf, making her request very clear. He could actually feel her heat high against his thigh, and he shivered in anticipation.

 _Not yet_. He wanted more. Wanted her to feel the same pleasure he did. His kisses burned across her chest, lower and lower, until she cried out in pleasure as his tongue found the very core of her desire. He moaned into her, the vibrations causing her to grip the headboard forcefully. All coherent thoughts dissipated as he brought her closer to ecstasy. He didn't have to think about how to best please her, the motions and the incantations were as familiar to him as any spell he had ever learned. As his fingers curled into her, tracing the spot that only he had ever touched, she arched her back in a soundless cry.

Everything became an intoxicating blur of hands and mouths as he crawled up her trembling body. There was nothing but love and need as she opened herself to him, as he thrust inside her, as they were joined together.

"Ffuuck," the coarseness of his words were in aching contrast to the tenderness of their sentiment. He's overwhelmed by how _unbelievably good_ it feels, and for a moment he resists the urge to move, relishing in the feel of being as close as humanly possible to the woman he loves. And yet, there is that part that knows, it just _fucking knows_ that there will be times when it won't be close enough.

When they both feel as if they can't take it another moment, he begins to move inside her. His thrust are slow and deep as he raises himself up on his hands. Her eyes are closed, and as he increases the intensity of his thrusts, she bites her bottom lip. It is almost more than he can take, and he growls out her name. She begins to roll her hips in counterpoint to his motions, and soon they are lost in the frenzy of passion. He knows he's close, but he holds on until he feels her tighten around him.

"Rrrrron."

He cannot speak, the force of his own orgasm is so strong. She feels him pulsing inside her; it is a feeling that she loves, one that she knows will always amaze and arouse her. She leaves small, sweet kisses on the parts of his arms and chest that she can reach, as his breathing returns to normal.

"Gods, I love you," when he finds his voice again it is as raspy as it is warm. He lowers himself onto his elbows and smiles down at her with that crooked smile that she loved even before she quite knew what love meant.

"Love you, too," she wrapped her arms around his waist, "and I think you may be right."

"Excuse me? You must have shagged me deaf…I could've sworn you just said I was right."

Hermione playfully swatted his bum, causing him to yelp in surprise, "Watch it or we'll end up on that great libraries of the world tour!"

"Ok! I surrender…I would wave the white flag, but I'm not quite sure what you did with my pants."

"Ugh! ANYway…my point is, I think that we may kidding ourselves to think that we will see much outside of our own room on this trip, so we should keep that in mind and save money accordingly."

"Now it may be true that we will spend most of our time between the sheets…or in the shower, or on the floor, or on the sofa, or…"

"I think I get the idea, Ron."

"Alright…but even if that's the case, I think that we need to make this a trip one we will always remember. I want to take you somewhere you've never been, ya know?"

"That sounds like a good plan, as long as we don't go overboard."

"Fair enough."

"And as long as we have some fun instead of just shagging the whole time."

"You're never gonna let me live that down are you?"

"Never."


End file.
